The Village Doctor's Dirty Cure

I am a farmer's wife, afflicted with an unbearable addiction.

The frequent episodes severely disrupted the autumn harvest.

Left with no choice, I followed my husband to seek treatment from the newly arrived college-trained village doctor.

But his treatment method made me break down on the spot...

---

On the way to see the doctor with my husband, the addiction flared up again. It felt like countless snakes were slithering inside me, an unbearable, maddening itch.

My vision grew hazy. I clutched my clothes and looked pleadingly at my husband.

He cursed under his breath, calling me a slut.

Tears fell one by one. When this illness first started, my husband was almost pleased. But as time went on, he couldn't handle it.

He broke off a corn cob and handed it to me. "Go take care of it yourself."

I hurried into the cornfield, quickly pulling down my clothes, ready to start.

Suddenly, someone grabbed me from behind. I thought it was my husband.

Gasping for air, I turned around and opened my eyes, only to find it wasn't him at all.

I pushed him away and tried to run, but he held me tight. I screamed for my husband, but he never answered.

How could he not hear me in this vast, open field? I suddenly remembered him saying a few days ago that maybe he should find me another man.

This man was probably let in here on purpose.

The corn cob was still inside me. With the frantic struggling and movement, my body had already turned to jelly. I quickly lost even the strength to fight back.

The man seized the chance to push me down. Terrified and furious, I beat weakly against him.

Just as he was about to take himself out, I grabbed a handful of corn leaves and smeared them across his face.

Caught off guard, they went right into his eyes.

Corn leaves are sharp. Getting them in your eyes hurts like hell.

He slapped me hard across the face, snarling that I was a tease.

My husband, perhaps hearing the commotion, rushed in.

"Your wife is a damn bitch," the man spat. "Nearly blinded me. Find someone else."

He pulled out twenty dollars, threw it on the ground, and stormed off.

My husband helped me up, asking if I was okay.

A wave of bitterness washed over me, and fresh tears fell. "How can you even ask? This was your doing, wasn't it?"

"What kind of husband are you? Not only do you let another man have your wife, you practically pay him for it. You're a monster." I glared at him, my voice shaking with rage.

He showed no remorse. He just cursed me again. "This is your fault! You and your filthy disease. It comes on anytime, you'd want me at it 24 hours a day. Winter's coming. We need to bring in the harvest!"

"Let it all freeze and rot in the fields then! A whole year's work wasted. We might as well starve this winter!"

He turned and stomped away, fuming.

I wiped my tears, got up, and hurried after him.

I knew it was my fault. The fact he hadn't thrown me out was already a kindness.